


Flat Dive

by CruelisnotMason



Category: Free!, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Free! AU, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Swimming, alternative universe, lifeguard AU, what if they met later in life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CruelisnotMason/pseuds/CruelisnotMason
Summary: It would have been an idle and uneventful day at the pool, if Keith didn't see someone almost drowning.





	Flat Dive

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: depression, mentions of thoughts about suicide
> 
> I just want to say that anyone who doesn't feel well at the moment should be cautious when reading this fic (or consider not reading it now). It deals with heavy thoughts and depression, but it's also not a medical work, just fiction. It's not the main part of this fic, but in the end it will be a major part. I actually wanted to write something different inherently but in the end, this came out.

It's a quiet day, Keith decides when he looks over the water. There are some moms or dads accompanied by their kids, some grandmas and grandpa's who come here every day to swim their paced rounds around the pool. It’s lively, but idle. It’s also not too hot yet. 

The clouds are idly floating at the blue sky.

He’s currently sitting on a safe guard seat high above the ground, hovering above everyone else at the pool. It makes it easy to search for someone who might be drowning - not that that regularly happens. Sometimes it's a child that didn't pay attention if it's wearing swimming aid or not, but since he's been working at the Garrison Pool, there have been no tragic accidents that resulted in serious injuries, yet.

Today is no different from every other day, he thinks, but then he sees it. Soft waves and wild splashes of water where somebody must be struggling under water. It takes no three seconds for Keith to get of his chair and down the stairs so he can run and dive into the spot to safe someone from drowning. It also takes mere seconds for the struggling to die down, too.

A nose dive into the water later, he quickly gets his arms around someone who feels like he's double his size, or at least weighs a lot. He grips the hard muscles, yanks the guys head over water and tucks him to his chest. They quickly arrive the safe edge, where he drags the guy out of the water and carefully lays his head down on the ground. Keith looks at his whole body to get a good grip of how the guy’s doing – checking vital signs and that stuff. His eyes scan over the upper body and over his arms, or better, one arm. For a short moment, Keith’s in shock – but then he realizes that this guy, who he has seen before when he enters the swimming pool must have been wearing a prosthetic when he's not in the water and therefore – just one arm.

Keith scooches down, puts a finger at the guy’s nose, then to listen for his breath - he seems to have swallowed quite a bit of water, so Keith grips his nose tight and puts his mouth on him, followed by a few experienced motions to the rhythm of - ironically - 'staying alive' playing in his mind, which he learned in his lifeguard training.

The white-haired guy (an odd color for a guy his age) with muscles of steel turns his head to the side and sputters out a whole bucket of water and after he’s done, he sinks into Keith's arms. Keith softly slaps him in the face.  
"Sir", he says in his most professional voice, "can you hear me?"

The guy doesn't react, eyes rolling backwards. When he opens his mouth, he vomits another bucket of water on Keith's bright white polo shirt. Keith waits for him to be done and maybe answer.

"You saved me." The guy’s voice sounds dreamy and while he’s still laying in Keith’s arms, he appreciates Keith’s bicep by squeezing it. Keith still waits for him to come back to his senses. Then, he finally looks at him, eyes heavy lidded and obviously being not by full consciousness, and asks Keith: "Are you an angel?"

A week later Keith would see the humor in that, but not now.

"It's me", he says, then, because he probably doesn't know who he is, "Keith."

And after, because that might tell the guy nothing, as well, he adds: "The life guard."

The guy's lips turn into a smile. "Keith, hi, it's me. Takashi."

He has a wide smile on his lips while saying it, and his eyes roll back again. Just to be safe, Keith slaps him again.

"Sorry", Takashi splutters yet again, "I mean, I'm Shiro."

"Which one is it", Keith mutters to himself, and collects Takashi-Shiro from the ground to bring him to the lifeguards office.

"Let's warm you up, Shiro", he says, because it’s the last name he told him, and he guesses that must be it. The guy nods dumbfounded and let's himself be supported and guided to the office.  
“Hey Terry”, Keith greets his co-worker while dragging Shiro into the office, “you have to go watch the pool for a while, just dragged this one out.”

“Roger”, Terry says unironically and gets out. Keith takes a second folding chair out of a small basement behind the door, together with a blanket. He pushes the blanket into Shiro’s hands and opens the folding chair for him to sit.

“Sit down”, he orders, “and keep yourself warm.”

The office itself is pretty cold – but someone has to watch the register and sell tickets to the visitors while another person has to watch the pool, so it’s the only option to change places with Terry and watch over Shiro. Keith throws on the heater and gets some hot water from a dispenser.

“Here”, he hands a small cup to Shiro and gets out a formula. Shiro so far just accepted whatever has been handed him and sits down on the small chair next to Keith. He reluctantly throws the blanket over himself, too. “Sorry”, he tells Keith, “I must have forgotten to take my medication…”

Keith looks up to him and gazes into his eyes. Dark brown, gentle eyes that look as sorry as he sounds. Keith thinks how common it is for someone to try to commit suicide in the pool – but the he dismisses that Shiro tried to kill himself and really – simply forgot to take his medication. 

“Where is it now? I can go grab it”, he offers and stands. Shiro hesitates first, but then fiddles at the key band at his hand which has the locker number on it. “Put it in a small blue bag in my locker. You can’t miss it.”

He visibly feels better after taking it and Keith gives him some paperwork to fill out – something about how he won’t sue them for saving his life and similar stuff. Shiro drops the pen a few times, out of nervousness or maybe because “actually, I’m right handed”, as he tells Keith who automatically looks where Shiro’s right hand would be but isn’t.

“It’s okay”, Keith says for the thousandth time when Shiro tells him he’s sorry for the thousandth time and manages a small smile. He gets rewarded with the most brilliant smile he has seen for a while. It leaves him unable to say anything else “You sure don’t need to go to the hospital, right?”

Shiro shakes his head – then closes his eyes from the movement for a short time. 

“Do you, uhm”, Keith starts, because he should go back to his working place before Terry gets fed up with doing his work as life guard and scolds him as soon as they switch, “feel alright?”

The stranger smiles and gets up. “Sure.”

 

Keith should be watching the pool, but he’s watching Shiro, fully clothed on his way out when he collapses.

“Terry, go watch the pool!”, he shouts as he runs after Shiro and gets him up.

“Shiro, are you okay?”, he asks him and pulls him on his feet.

“Y-yeah, yeah, sorry, I must be tired…”

“How far do you live from here?”

“30 minutes by bus”

“Damn these busses are slow”

Keith doesn’t realize how tight he’s hugging Shiro to hold him up, doesn’t get why Shiro’s face is red and thinks it’s a bad cold, and that’s why he’s getting in trouble today.

“You know what?”, he guides him towards a small bench. “You wait here, I’m telling Terry we’ll close up the front for a bit.

Shiro can’t tell him not to, because Keith already turned his back to him and sprints towards the pool, where his co-worker stands. After a while he comes back – face neutral and untelling if he got in trouble or if it’s alright for him to skip work in the middle of it to help someone he barely knows.

But Shiro feels defeated, there is no way he can tell Keith that he’ll be fine on his own, not after that morning, so he just lets it happen, lets those warm hands guide him to his bike.

“So, you need to hold on”, Keith tells him, “if you’re feeling weak, pinch my stomach and I’ll stop, okay?”

They get to his flat within 15 minutes and only have to stop twice on their way. It’s way quicker with bike than with bus.

“Is there anyone you can call?”, Keith asks him and Shiro gets the feeling that for some reason the person that works at the swimming pool and fished him out of it before drowning either got a savior complex or is just really really nice. 

“Uh, uhm, sure.”

Shiro thinks of his ex-fiancé or about how he has no parents and siblings to call and only Lance, who doesn’t know about his chronical illness and will fall from the clouds if he’s hearing about it.

Keith doesn’t look like he’s completely believing him, but Shiro knows that there’s only that much he can do about it. He nods, tells him to get better and notes down his number on a piece of paper. He puts it into Shiro’s hand and turns around, puts his helmet back on.

Shiro is still looking at the piece of paper in his hand with the feeling of being lost.

“Do you bring everyone home that nearly drowns at the pool?”, he asks without looking up. Keith turns back and opens the helmet to look at him.

“Only the one’s good looking.” -

Shiro’s mouth falls open.

 

\- And then he’s quickly gone.

Shiro doesn’t call Adam and not even Lance, just goes back into the flat and into bed. He thinks about the safe guard at the pool and about that last sentence, wonders if it was a joke or sincere, or if it just was a dude complimenting another dude.

 

Shiro is too embarrassed to go back for the next couple of weeks and he also doesn’t call Keith or writes him to tell him he has gotten better – but he saved Keith’s number in his phone, just in case he needs it.

It’s the fourth week that he’s not been at the pool and that he decides to show up at there again – for once, he wants to swim and it’s the only pool near his flat, but he also wants to show Keith that he’s still alive. In case he cares.

He buys his ticket at the small office at the entrance and walks in, heart beating in his ribcage loud and unsteady. He starts to sweat even though it’s been colder those days.

When he’s done with changing and showering, Shiro can’t spy Keith. The relief that floods collides with a wave of self-loathing and regret that he didn’t write him in advance or that he especially chose the day where Keith doesn’t work.  
There’s no need to cry over spilled milk, so Shiro strives to the edge of the pool and dives in. The lanes seem endless today, and after swimming for barely 10 minutes, he takes a break at the edge.  
Someone has been swimming next to him, has been swimming in the lane since before Shiro started. Shiro watches the shadow in the lane quickly pass the end in a smooth roll under water, then it slowly moves towards him.

It’s curiosity that lets Shiro sit and breath for another minute, and when he realizes who it is, it’s to late to dive back into the water unseen.

Keith moves the hair out of his face and looks up – right into Shiro’s face.

“You’re well again”, he states and hoists himself out of the water to sit next to him, his lips are blue already.

“Yeah.” Shiro watches him as he reaches for a towel a few inches away from the water and dries his face. When he stretches and flexes his arms, Shiro is ashamed that he can’t take his eyes of his muscular arms.

It’s more embarrassing when Keith catches him looking.

“Was it bad? You haven’t been at the pool for a long time.” He’s a gentleman for not mentioning it and doesn’t question why Shiro suddenly stares at the water instead of Keith’s perfect body. He’s caught off guard, too, and doesn’t know if he should tell the truth or lie about the reason he hasn’t been at the pool. He doesn’t want Keith to worry, so he finds a compromise.

“I’ve been better quickly, but work was busy.”

Keith nods. Shiro sees it from the corner of the eye.

He straightens a bit (because why is he behaving like he has no self-confidence whatsoever?) and turns his head to Keith again.

“I’m happy to meet you here”, he tells him, and it’s the filtered truth (happy? More like fucking ecstatic) and leans back on his left arm. “I wanted to tell you, well, thank you for what you did. You weren’t obligated to help me that much and you still did. I think, from the bottom of your heart, you’re a really good person.”

He holds Keith’s gaze like a steady soldier holding the pole of his country’s flag, although he wants to crumble under his gaze like a hastily baked apple pie. 

The worst is, Keith doesn’t say anything for full two minutes while staring at him open mouthed, and Shiro begins to think it was too much, or not the right thing to say at all, or maybe he’s confused as to why Shiro would even mention it, he doesn’t know. He gets nervous, because Keith’s still not saying anything, legs dangling in the water, blue lips parted.

“…and I’m thinking maybe I can make it up to you? With dinner or something…”

Shiro thought about it for three weeks, day to day, how he could ask him, how he could subtly ask him for having dinner with him. He’s not even sad if it’s not a date (or maybe just a little bit), but actually wants to make up for Keith saving his life, even if he doesn’t see it like that.

“Dinner?”, Keith repeats Shiro’s offer and looks out of it. Shiro doesn’t know what to make of the look in his face, is it confused, disgusted, uninterested or merely shocked?

“You don’t have to”, he quickly tells him and pulls his goggles on, “it’s alright”, he tells him and dives into the pool before he can hear him.

He surfaces again after two lanes, but Keith isn’t there anymore.

Shiro tries to not show his disappointment when he dips under water and continues his training.

Later at the lockers, it’s Keith running towards him, fully clothed.

“Hey, hey, Shiro?”, he stops in front of him. “Sorry, I was getting cold earlier.”

Shiro turns to him, half smile on his face. “Ah. Really.”

“Yeah. I was thinking about your offer. You wanna go eat something now?”

Shiro almost lets the towel slip from his fingers. “Now?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry. There’s a nice burger place near the pool. You want to go there?”

“Yeah. I’d love to”, he says, not minding that he’s coming on strong. “Uhm, I just need a minute.”

Keith gaze falls on the prosthetic in Shiro’s hand, then he looks back into his eyes again, “Sure. I’m waiting for you at the entrance.”

Shiro watches until Keith is out of sight and turns to his locker and puts the prosthetic back on. He’s watching himself in the small mirror, looks at his nose, eyes, the scar on his nose, the small wrinkles on his forehead. He slams the locker closed.

 

Keith takes him to a small place that looks like it’s made for hungry students eating on a low budget. It’s only a limited set of tables and chairs and none of them looks like the other. Shiro spots an empty table under a small lamp.

“We have to order at the counter. You wait here”, Keith tells him after asking him what he wants.

 

“It’s nice they have vegetarian alternatives”, Shiro says when he comes back with their burgers.

“You don’t look much like a vegetarian”, Keith tells him, mouth already filled with a bite of bread, cheese and meat.

“I’m not”, Shiro tells him, “I just don’t always want to eat meat.” He takes a bite. “What does a vegetarian look like?”

Keith nods and looks at his biceps. “Not that buff.”

Shiro has a hard time swallowing without coughing and looks around to not let Keith’s casually said but accidentally flirty sounding phrases lure him in.

“It’s a nice place. Do you come here often?”

Keith swallows and throws one or two glances around the room, too. “Second time.”

Shiro cocks his head. “Ah, but you will come here more often?”  
He can’t make out the face that Keith’s making – it looks scared, maybe, troubled, confused, bewildered at the simple question. It takes him long to answer.

“Maybe I will. When I have to study”, he finally says and puts his burger down and looks at it.

“Ah. You’re in school?”, Shiro tries to keep it going.

“Yeah. Started last year”, he smiles.

Shiro’s smile drops. “Oh, so you’re…”

“… not a typical fresh man. I’m twenty-five.” Shiro doesn’t ask, but he keeps going. “…haven’t had the money to study when I got out of school.”

It’s still young to Shiro.

“How old are you?”

Shiro’s smiles only with his mouth. “Take a guess.”

“26?”, Keith asks,

“I think that’s the youngest anyone would have assumed to be my age.”

“30, then?” 

Shiro is tired of making jokes about his age, so he just tells him. “Thirty-two.”

Keith nods, like it’s not a big thing for him. Maybe it isn’t, Shiro is still surprised that they have a 7-year age gap.

“You look younger” is the only thing he tells him, and Shiro tries to not take it as a compliment.

 

Shiro changes his shift from working late to working early – so he can accompany Keith more often to go out and get dinner. Keith didn’t ask for it and he doesn’t complain either. He smiles at him more often and Shiro gets more and more the impression that he’s rather shy.

They only know each other for a month, but they share things Shiro never shared with his long-term friends. Sometimes he tells him thoughts that he couldn’t even tell his ex-fiancé. He doesn’t know why, but it’s hell to feel vulnerable with Keith, and it’s heaven when Keith’s reaction tells him that he doesn’t need to be afraid of being vulnerable with him. 

Sometimes, when they just eat in another small place Keith likes, when he leans over his food and the dark hair falls into his face, Shiro wants to reach out and put the strands back behind his ears. Sometimes, when they are about to part, Shiro wants to lean forward and hug him tight. He always holds himself back the last second and when he does, Keith looks at him with waiting eyes.

One day, they are at the pool and Keith doesn’t have to work. He gets in the water with him and they are leisurely swimming a few lanes until Keith suddenly speeds up. In the water, Shiro can see his frame getting smaller and smaller, until he picks the pace up, too.

At the other end of the lane, Keith surfaces first and looks next to him - Shiro comes up a few seconds later. “You’re fast.” He holds up his hand, grinning and waiting. But Keith grabs his hand and curls his fingers into his. They stand like this for a minute or so in which Shiro doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he was expecting a high five instead.

A couple of days later, when Shiro surfaces, Keith squats at the edge of the pool and smiles at him. “Hey”, he greets him, “shift’s ending early today.” 

Shiro looks up at him, smile full blown, honored to be the one Keith goes to in order to tell him he’s leaving early, possibly leaving with him. 

He doesn’t see it coming when Keith bends forward and reaches for his face to caress his cheek with his thumb. Keith doesn’t seem to realize this gesture either – his eyes widen, and he pulls away quickly.

“See you in 30 minutes?”, he asks, gets up and turns and doesn’t wait for an answer.

Shiro is out of the water in an instant which results in him having to wait for ten more minutes for Keith to show up in the end, but he doesn’t mind.  
“I thought maybe dinner at my place?”, Keith suggests, when he stops in front of him. The walk leisurely towards the exit.  
Shiro gulps. “Uhm, ordering in?”

“No, cooking”, Keith laughs, but Shiro doesn’t answer, so he holds in his steps. 

“Ah. Right. Alright, I can do that”, Shiro says and doesn’t know how to bring to him the fact when someone’s able to make cooking water burn, then it’s him.

“Alright?”, Keith says, too. They start walking again.

They bump into each other while shopping for ingredients. When Shiro trips over another customer who’s crouching and reaching for a wine bottle on the lower shelves, Keith holds him steady – he only lets him go when he reaches for his wallet at the check-out. Shiro doesn’t know what to do with his hands for the whole time and proceeds to not know what to do with his hand when they walk home, too.

Thankfully it’s Keith doing most of the cooking. As soon as he sees Shiro chopping vegetables and fears for the life of him, he tells him to get “Out of my tiny kitchen”, bumps his hip and offers him to go watch TV in his room instead. It’s a shoe box of a flat, one kitchen corner, one bedroom, a tiny bathroom, but a bath tube.

Shiro doesn’t like watching TV, but he turns it on anyways and proceeds to look around Keith’s room. A few books, a small desk, an old chair that looks like it’s about to fall into pieces. A few loose sheets of paper with drawings on it. Clothes and shoes scattered over the floor. No pictures of friends or family.

He takes a book with pictures of stars and galaxies out and lays on the bed between some of Keith’s clothes. It takes two pages of dark skies and bright points for him to fall asleep and only the smell of pasta with vegetable sauce. Also, Keith is close, and slowly shakes him awake.

“Shiro?”, he says in a low voice and shakes him a bit more, then, quieter, “Takashi?”

It’s been a long time since someone called him that. 

Shiro opens his eyes and blinks twice to get clear vision on Keith’s face, dangerously close to him. He can feel his warm breath. The world may be slowing down, but his heart jumps in his chest. 

“Hey”, he says softly. Keith smiles down at him and helps him up. “How was your nap?”, he asks him as they go back to the kitchen to get bring the food to the tiny table on the balcony. It’s charming and barely big enough for them both.

“Thanks for the food”, Shiro tells him. It’s only pasta, but it’s already much for him. It looks and smells delicious.

“It’s fine. I wanted to cook for you.”  
Shiro doesn’t know what to say to that, he’s too embarrassed and doesn’t know how to take it, doesn’t know how he should handle Keith doing and saying nice things to him. If he says anything else, it’ll come out to soft, too much in love, so he says “Take the ‘Thank you’ I just gave you, Keith” as neutral as he can.

Keith laughs at that. “Okay. You’re welcome.” 

They are both grinning.

It tastes good, a huge difference to store bought packaged meals or smaller restaurants. Shiro doesn’t know when he last had a well-cooked meal and decides to treasure every bite. He must make a face for Keith to raise an eyebrow at him.

“It’s really good”, Shiro mumbles, smiles, digs in. Then, “What do I deserve to get such a heartwarming meal?” The question sounds funny, but he’s serious.

“What don’t you deserve”, Keith mumbles under his breath and slurps some noodles in. It’s going to fast, even if it is going on for weeks. 

“What?” Shiro asks him, every inch of bravery leaving him.

“I’m serious”, Keith tells him, and Shiro’s jealous of how straight forward he can be, “I think you deserve the world.”

He says it so honest and sincere and still Shiro doesn’t know whether it’s a joke or not.  
“For what? Almost drowning?”

“Of course not”, Keith tells him and shoves him a little. He looks at him, eyes so intense and dark, calculating. Unsure, if he should tell him, or not.

“I…”, he starts, “I told you I’ve been in a bad place kind of, when he met the first time.”

“Yeah. You never told me why, but that’s fine-“  
“My mom went away when I was little. It was right before my dad died, or that’s what I thought. It’s an old story, but it kept coming back to me lately.”

Shiro looks at him and slowly lowering his fork. “Keep eating!”, Keith laughs, “It’s okay.”

“Okay”, Shiro says, still looks at him, waiting.

“So, I’ve started a college a few months ago and I started thinking that I don’t know why I’m doing it. It was a dream”, he swallows, rubs his eye, “since I’ve been little. But I always thought my parents would be proud, so, lately I thought…they won’t be here when I’m graduating. So why am I doing it?”

There’s no good answer to that, so Shiro knows, there’s nothing he can say to make it right, so he just takes Keith’s hand in his, carefully, unsure if it’s okay or not. Keith curls his’ into his palm and squeezes it.  
“You really don’t know”, he sighs, “and maybe it’s dumb. But when you told me that I’m a good person, it was the nicest thing that I’ve heard in a few months, or maybe the only thing I could hear. I waited for you come back to the pool, because I was worried, Shiro”, he tells him and bites his lips, “I wanted to know that you’re okay, and decided the day, you’ll come back I can finally die.”

Shiro opens his mouth, then closes it, then squeezes his hand back. “I’m happy you didn’t”, he tells him, because what do you tell someone who’s suicidal? He knows there’s nothing much to what he offers.

“I am, too”, Keith tells him bewildered and withdraws his hand. “It kind of brought something back into perspective. I thought about getting a burger at that place again and getting it with you. I thought that I helped you and that’s something to be proud of. I’m proud of what I’m doing already. That’s a lot to realize, even if it doesn’t sound like it.”  
“It’s a lot when you’re depressed”, Shiro tells him and extends his hand to him.  
“Yeah”, Keith breathes softly and closes his eyes, “yeah.”  
“I believe in you. More important, it’s good you believe in yourself.”  
Keith nods, eyes closed and small grin on his face. “I also believe in therapy and antidepressant.”  
“That’s good, too”, Shiro tells him.

And that’s that.  
They eat more in silence, holding hands – it’s not easy to eat with his left hand, but he struggles through it, never lets go of Keith.  
“Was this okay?”, Keith asks him after a while.  
“It was.” His answer is immediate. “More than okay.”  
Then, Shiro smiles at him. “You’re my friend.”  
Keith smiles back. “Thanks.”

It starts to rain soon, and they scramble their stuff together – Keith laughs when Shiro drops his plate down the balcony. “Good thing there’s no one downstairs”, Shiro tells him and gets dragged in by Keith who only laughs louder and grins at him. It started pouring down out of nowhere, so they got wet anyway.  
“Should I wash the dishes?”, Shiro asks him and moves towards kitchen, but Keith pulls him back. “You’re my guest”, he tells him and throws him off balance. They are close, really close. Keith draws him even closer. Shiro feels every single rain drop run down his face, while he’s staring in Keith’s, looks into his eyes, his waiting, watching eyes with the dark lashes and the beautiful almond shape.  
“Do you have to be somewhere?”, Keith asks him, his arms closing in on Shiro’s waist. It’s warm and nice, but something in him is triggering Shiro’s fight or flight mechanism.  
In the end, it’s flight.

He frees himself from Keith’s grip and steps one step back, too afraid of what’s happening. It’s been too long that he’s been out of a relationship, too long since he hasn’t touched anybody. “I don’t”, he says and can’t bear to look Keith in the eyes.  
“It’s okay, Shiro”, he tells him, because Keith is the bigger person of them two, is less afraid than him. Shiro nods. It’s almost as if he knows, that he means a lot to him, that he knows that Shiro wants to be with him.  
A few days later, Keith calls him in the night.  
“I hope you’re one for breaking the rules sometimes”, he tells him, after Shiro arrived at the swimming pool and sees Keith open one of the back gates that open up to the meadow. The night is warm and dry, and there are almost no clouds.  
“What are we doing?”  
“I don’t know. Something daring, maybe”, Keith grins and closes the gate behind Shiro.  
“You won’t get fired when someone finds out, right?”  
“Oh no. Got a deal with the night guard. He brings his sweetheart and I won’t tell anyone anything, and I bring mine.  
Shiro huffs.  
“I’m your sweetheart?”, he asks. Keith leads him to a ladder. It’s for the diving platform.  
“If you want to be”, Keith tells him and starts climbing. His face is red and embarrassed, but he stands to his words.

They lie on the platform and watch stars. It’s was a silent day, and a silent night.  
“What are you swimming for?”, Keith asks him. The question is sudden and Shiro never expected it – but the warm air makes him compliant to answer everything Keith wants to know from him.  
“I’m swimming for myself”, he says, then, “it’s a dumb dream, but I always wanted to go to Olympics, before this happened.” He waves with his prosthesis. “I can’t let go of that, somehow.”  
“You don’t have to.” Keith tells him. He doesn’t laugh, he doesn’t say it’s impossible. Still.  
“I should. It’s impossible.”  
“I don’t think it matters. If something’s possible or not.”  
Shiro thinks of Sam Holt, who always vouched for him, who told him that if he worries about what could go wrong, he misses out on doing something great. Sometimes, it felt like empty words – but now…  
“You know”, he turns his body to the side, Keith does too, so they are facing each other, “We’re a bit similar. I don’t have parents, never had. I accepted it.”  
Keith reaches out to touch him. He did it all the time but Shiro didn’t know how to interpret it.  
“I wanted to go to the Olympics, make them see me on TV, if they are alive, or be proud in me in heaven, I guess. Then there was the disease – I just accepted it, I mean…”  
“…death”  
The word cuts into the night like a knife. Shiro lets out a loud exhale.  
“Yes. And then I had to accept life. I only ever lived to die one day, and now I just live and it’s hard to have a dream. Olympics was my dream, now it’s just…”  
“It still can be. If you want it to be.”  
“I don’t know if I want that.”  
“That’s alright”, Keith says and takes his hand. Shiro freezes, but gets over himself quickly and decides to fight, not flight. He shuffles closer.  
“It’s okay to not know”, Keith tells him. He’s shuffling closer, too, until he’s lying in Shiro’s arm. He turns his head to him. “I’m glad you’re here.”  
“Me too. Glad I didn't drown either.” 

The kiss that follows is tentative, careful. It doesn’t grow heated or deep – just comforting in itself.  
“I wish I met you earlier in life. I think if I’d known you when I was a teenager or so, I’d never wanted to die. I would always want to be in your presence”, Keith says and laughs.  
“Maybe”, Shiro says. He can’t say he agrees with the theory that he would have been a major game changer in Keith’s life if they met when younger. He doesn’t think he could have made that impression.

“Dating is hard, when being depressed”, Keith tells him late that night, “but I think it’s going to be alright.” Shiro nods and smiles, gives him another kiss, then nuzzles his nose through Keith’s hair. “I think we’ll be fine”, he tells him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm CruelisnotMason | Cruelisblue and I do fics and fanart.  
> You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/CruelisB) & [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cruelisblue) and talk to me about Sheith~  
> ______________________________________
> 
>  
> 
> If you liked this, I'd be overjoyed if you left a comment! I welcome:  
> \- short comments  
> \- long comments  
> \- "<3"  
> \- constructive criticism! (Please take into account if the work is old/recent, and that I'm not a native speaker/ that I'm doing this as a hobby in my free time :)  
> So please voice your criticism politely; but I do absolutely welcome it!)


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